<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Coming up for Air by mghnn</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218833">Coming up for Air</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mghnn/pseuds/mghnn'>mghnn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Canon Divergence, Death, F/M, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, chestervelle - Freeform, dark themes, implied rape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:15:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mghnn/pseuds/mghnn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo’s been hunting with the boys for over a year, after Dean works out a deal with Ellen since the events in Philadelphia. Christmas Eve brings them to a missing person’s case in Colorado and puts Jo’s training to the test.</p><p>-</p><p>Just a little filler while I continue to work on the Calico Road Series.</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own the main characters (sans the baddy), or their original stories.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jo Harvelle/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Okay Sam, let’s hear it”, Jo prompted the younger Winchester, holding her phone between Dean and herself so they could both hear. </p><p>“So the girl killed last week wasn't the first. Seems any girl that goes into the house, never make it back out - there’s been 5 or 6 missing over the last two years.” Sam’s voice filled the car, “probably shoulda had Jo sit this one out.”</p><p>“Yea, well we’ll be extra careful”, Dean flicked his eyes to Jo as she gave an obedient nod. “What did the boyfriend say about his missing girlfriend?”, Dean asked, fixing his eyes back on the slushy road ahead. </p><p>It was going to be an unseasonably white Christmas in Cripple Creek Colorado, big chunky flakes had started to fall just before they got into town, coating the roads and sidewalks. The type of snow that was all postcard fluffy on top, treacherous and slippery underneath as it was barely below freezing. The trio had dumped their stuff in the motel and split up right away with Jo and Dean stocking up on supplies before heading to the house, leaving Sam on interview and research duty. </p><p>“Her name was Anna, his was David, and they found him on the edge of town totally out of it and covered in dirt, they were able to pull traces of her hair and blood off of him but he doesn’t remember anything after getting to the house,” Sam answered. “She loved scary movies apparently so he thought that house would be a great.. uh... let’s go with makeout spot”.</p><p>“Smooth”, was all Dean said. </p><p>“Yea no kidding”, Sam chimed. </p><p>“Why do people do this shit? If it looks haunted, don’t fuck with it”, Jo fumed. “Or fuck in it I guess”. </p><p>“It’s that adrenaline aphrodisiac, nuthin’ quite like it”. Dean winked over at her, Jo just rolled her eyes back at him.</p><p>“Yeah well, they shoulda left this place alone”, Sam’s voice came from the speakerphone again. “The guy that owned that house, Gregor Petricca, had always been the town outcast. Seems he’d been around since the town's inception in 1891, after emigrating from somewhere in Europe and then struck it rich in one of the gold mines. He bought that huge piece of land on the far end of town, built the house and kept to himself. Rumours ran around about what he did up there after he left the mines, few people reported missing girls from in town and a few surrounding ones but when anyone tried to intervene, it never really went anywhere. He had a.. preference for orphaned girls. Easier to keep off the radar would be my guess, oh and he liked them on the ..uh..younger side.”</p><p>“Perv”. Jo piped in. </p><p>“Yea, but the girls would never talk to anyone when they were in town. He gave them a home and he fed them so I think back then, they thought that was their best option.” Sam continued. </p><p>“Okay, so what happened to this guy?” Dean asked</p><p>“No one really knows, the people in town just avoided the house - they assumed he died up there and left it. It wasn’t even until a few years ago when a developer finally bought the land that it was boarded up and fenced off, right around the time that first girl went missing.”</p><p>“Which is when kids started going up there and snooping around.” Dean finished, “They’re like moths to a goddamn flame as soon as that ‘Do Not Enter’ sign goes up”. </p><p>“Morons”, Jo said. “Okay so, find the girl, find this guys bones, salt &amp; burn - should be simple enough”</p><p>“Yea here’s to hopin', he’s not buried anywhere here in town so my bet is somewhere near the house”. Sam said</p><p>“Alright, so you head back to the motel - make sure you grab the necessities and we’ll meet you there post-burn”. Dean said, glancing over at the phone. </p><p>“Yea, yea - all the Traditional Winchester family Christmas Eve Gas &amp; Go fixin's, you’re in for a treat Jo”, Sam chuckled “Take it easy on the roads man, it’s getting pretty bad in town here”</p><p>“We’ll be fine Sammy, nuthin’ my baby can’t handle”, Dean said, proudly petting the dashboard. </p><p>“Bye Sam”, Jo said, snapping her phone shut, turning to Dean “What are the odds this girl is still alive?”</p><p>“I dunno”, Dean said, scrubbing his hand over his face. </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>They rode in silence the rest of the way up to Petricca’s old house, the snow had started to come down even harder, forcing them to park the impala a couple of miles away from the house, tucked in the brush off the main path. The town obviously not bothering to send snow plows or salt trucks in this direction, at least it would keep the local kids and law enforcement far enough away until their job was done. </p><p>Jo pulled her hood up, thick flakes making dull thuds echo against the cave of material around her head. She watched Dean pull the collar of his leather jacket up, the snow settling into his hair. They packed their gear in silence, she tossed him a silver lighter as he passed her shotgun over. They had been working together for over a year now and settled into an easy routine. Jo and Sam usually rotated research duty, unless it was something they’d never come across before. Dean had made that promise to Ellen in order for her to let Jo hunt with them, and he could focus better on what they needed to do with her on the sidelines. She always did so graciously and rivalled Sam when she got into research mode, but Dean always came back and drilled the resolution into her brain while they trained - breaking down how they used her intel, quizzing her relentlessly. </p><p>She was sure he held guilt about what happened to her dad, some sins of the father bullshit which was probably why their training sessions were so brutal, often leaving her more battered than after a job. Seemed that if he could teach her everything he knew, then maybe he could keep her from the same fate. After Holmes, and an apparently terrifying one on one conversation with Ellen, where Jo and Sam had been locked out of the Roadhouse until they were done, he’d refused to ever let her be bait again. </p><p>She found she actually didn’t mind their setup, and as stubborn as Dean could be, she followed his direction without a fight. She was getting the experience, and he forced her to think on her feet or in most cases, on her ass as that was usually where she ended up. But she was getting stronger and faster, and he always asked for her input during a job stating she had good instincts.</p><p>“All set?”, He asked her, hauling his weapons duffel over his shoulder. </p><p>“You bet”, she nodded at him as he shut the trunk. </p><p> </p><p>__</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They trudged in silence, up what she assumed would have been the path, the snow so fluffy that it didn’t even crunch under their shoes and it was still coming down so heavy that it forced them both to squint as the thick flakes battered and soaked their lashes. Barely able to make out the outline of the house up the path, it wasn’t until they were spitting distance to a rickety looking set of stairs that they could see the full size of the place. </p><p>A covered porch led up to the front door, with a mezzanine wrapping around the west side of the two-story house. Graffiti covered boards framed in broken glass replaced the big bay windows on either side of the front door. What was once no doubt a pretty impressive house - especially in its time, was now little more than a sagging dilapidated shell. </p><p>Creeping up the porch steps - weapons ready, Jo mumbled a curse when her foot went through the rotted wood of the 2nd step. </p><p>“I’m good”, she answered at the eyebrow Dean raised at her over his shoulder as she wrestled her foot out. He nodded and made to pull open the screen door, instead the whole thing came off its hinges with a loud thunk, he let go of the handle and leaned it against the railing of the porch. </p><p>“And I’ll huff, and I’ll puff’ Dean quipped, Jo chuckled with a smirk.  </p><p>The main door proved a little harder, Dean having to heave his shoulder into it to get it to budge. When it finally gave, it swung inwards with an epic horror movie-worthy creak, scraping an arched path across the worn wood of the entryway. They waited for a full breath before stepping across the threshold, weapons back at the ready. </p><p>“Keep your eyes open, we don’t need this place claiming another female”, Dean whispered over his shoulder. </p><p>“Thanks captain obvious”, Jo snorted back. </p><p>“I’m serious Jo”, Dean stopped, turning to fully face her. </p><p>“I know”, Jo’s boots stopping half a step from Dean’s, looking up at him. “Thanks,” She said seriously, nodding at him. </p><p>He was the first to break eye contact, turning back around to survey the entryway. The house was split into 2 sides; what was probably a formal dining room on their left - a couple of rotting chairs stacked in the corner and a china cabinet tipped on its side, the glass doors shattered long ago. A sitting room on their right. Dean chose to continue down the hall, passing a set of stairs that faced the front door. They made their way down the narrow hall, Jo walking backwards to cover their rear, while Dean led the way. At the back of the house was the kitchen, with another set of stairs heading up, a back door that was stuck partially open and a door leading down to what she assumed was a cold cellar. The Kitchen looped back to the sitting room through what would have been a small informal dining room. </p><p>As they made their way back to the sitting room, they came across a denim jacket with a fuzzy sherpa collar tossed over the arm of the ancient couch and a plaid blanket, balled on the ground between the couch and fireplace, beside the remnants of candles; laid out in a half circle and all burnt down to puddles of hardened wax. A 6 pack - well, one-third of a 6 pack, and half a bottle of wine tipped on its side with a semi-frozen puddle around it. </p><p>“Wow... that’s romantic”, Jo rolled her eyes. </p><p>“What, this doesn’t do it for ya?”, Dean joked. “Bow-chicka-wow-wow”</p><p>Jo just laughed and shook her head. </p><p>“Well, let’s make the most of the daylight and get to it,” Dean said and dropped his duffel beside the couch, kneeling, he placed his gun on the floor by his foot and rummaged through the bag. Passing a handful of salt rounds up to Jo as her eyes roved the room, she stuffed a few in both pockets of her jacket, Dean doing the same with the iron-coated bullets for his gun and pulling out his EMF reader. </p><p>They both went on high alert as the lights on Dean’s homemade reader lit up to max with a high pitched trill, eyes surveying the room again with weapons at the ready. Dean gave a small shrug when nothing jumped out at them and they began to slowly move through the room but the reader didn’t waiver its red lights during their survey of the main floor. </p><p>“Is it broken?” Jo asked quietly when Dean tried smacking the back of it. </p><p>“I don’t think so, this guy may be putting out some seriously strong vibes though.” He nodded to the staircase, “Let’s do a quick scout upstairs and then we’ll check out the cellar and see what we come up with.”</p><p>“You may as well turn that thing off, I don’t think it’s going to help us much at the moment.” </p><p>Dean turned the EMF reader off and shoved it into his jacket, the silence pressed heavily as they carried on up the stairs in the same fashion; Dean leading the way with Jo keeping one eye at their rear. </p><p>The second floor was divided into four large rooms, all except one showed signs of multiple occupants; with rusted and broken single bed frames lined against the wall of two rooms, one room at the farthest corner housed a handful of cribs and the final room had a rotted wardrobe in one corner, and a double bed frame with a mattress in what was probably its final stages of decay. </p><p>“Well I’ll say it again, demons I get”, Dean stated, Jo, noting the angry look that flashed across his face when it became obvious of the goings-on that took place in this house. “People are fucking crazy.” </p><p>“You’re not wrong.” She nodded back at him, they continued down the hallway to the stairs on the other end when Jo put her foot through another floorboard. “For fucks sakes”, she cursed in frustration as she scrambled to get out of the hole. </p><p>“Can’t take you anywhere can I?” Dean sighed, turning to go help. </p><p>The hand that hadn’t been holding Jo’s gun had been pressed against the wall to give herself leverage as she tried to jerk her foot free when the mouldy drywall disintegrated under her fingers, letting out a yelp as she plunged halfway into the wall. </p><p>“JO!”, Dean jumped to grab her free flailing hand and keep her somewhat upright. </p><p> </p><p>__</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m okay!” She struggled to get purchase against the inside of the wall to help Dean hoist her out of the mess. Her fingers swept across something that was a smoother texture than the beams and drywall inside the wall, “WAIT!”</p><p>Dean froze, he had both feet braced on either side of the hole in the floorboards, with one hand gripping Jo’s arm at the elbow. </p><p>“Gimme a flashlight”</p><p>There was a clatter as he dropped his gun and a moment later a tap on the shoulder of the arm Dean had in his grasp, balancing her between the two holes she’d fallen into. She fumbled to grab the flashlight and clicked it on inside the panel. </p><p>“What is it with you and poking around inside walls?” Dean asked, referencing her debut hunt in Philly a couple of years ago. </p><p>“It’s my thing I guess,” She mumbled as she shifted to shine the light behind her. “And apparently I have a type, pull me out.” She tucked her arm to her chest and ducked her head as Dean heaved her out of the wall and steadied her as she finally got her foot out of the floor. </p><p>“What do you mean?”, he asked. She handed him the flashlight and jerked her head towards the hole in the wall as she reached into his pocket and pulled out the EMF reader. When she clicked it on, the same result from downstairs came from the little gadget as she waved it around the hall. “Pretty sure I know why it’s doing that.” </p><p>Dean edged around the crater in the floor to shine the flashlight into the wall, catching the gleam of an ivory skull gaping back at him. He jumped slightly at a loud thud against the wall beside him, Jo having slammed the butt of her shotgun against it, dropping the gun and pulling at the weak drywall with her hands. She uncovered another petite skeleton between the studs, the remnants of what may have been a dress draped from one boney shoulder. </p><p>They made eye contact briefly before they both jumped into action, tearing into the walls on either side of the hallway, the sounds of their efforts drowning out the trill of the EMF reader sitting on the floor. They made it about two thirds through the hallway before Jo stopped, bracing her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “Jesus Christ”, she cursed with her head down, before standing up, wiping her hands on her jeans and stalking off to the stairwell. </p><p>Dean made his way to the last bit of wall Jo had torn down, inside was another skeleton, one of the smaller ones they’d uncovered. Appearing to be that of someone barely out of childhood and clutched in its dainty skeletal fingers was a motheaten bundle of fabric, with a tiny skull nestled inside it. “Babies having babies”, he mumbled to himself as he listened to Jo’s footsteps carry her down the stairs and out the front door. </p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Jo was standing with both arms braced on the parapet at the far end of the deck when Dean found her. She could hear the steady clunk of his boots against the wood as she took another heaving breath, trying to reign in the emotions that last skeleton had triggered in her. Dean was right, demons and monsters she could get, it was in their hard wiring, but for a human to do this shit was absolutely vile. </p><p>“Sorry”, She said quietly. </p><p>“It’s fine”, He said, watching her stand and turn to face him. Folding her arms across her chest with her eyes on the ground. </p><p>“No, I shouldn’t let that shit get to me.”, She shook her head, frustrated with herself. </p><p>“That wasn’t weakness Jo”, Dean said as he stepped up to her, pulling her into his chest, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping his arms around her. “You’re passionate and empathetic, there’s a difference.”</p><p>“Still”, she frowned against his chest.</p><p>“Hey,” He grabbed her head with both hands, forcing her to look up at him. “I’d be much more worried if you didn’t feel anything when shit like this comes out.”</p><p>Jo’s heart rate spiked when he didn’t immediately drop his hands, his pinky fingers fiddling with the fine hair at the back of her neck. This was closer than they’d ever been, outside of training and her eyes inadvertently focused on his lips as he worked the muscles in his jaw. Before she could steady her breathing she felt something in him shift and suddenly he was on her; lips against hers, hands in her hair, walking her back to pin her against the wall. She submitted to the kiss before she could give in to her brain, which was shouting that this was really not the time. She dropped her head back as he trailed his mouth down over her throat and collarbone, nudging his nose against the material of her shirt to gain more access to skin. Her breaths coming out in small puffs against the frigid winter air as she dug her arms in his jacket, gripping fistfuls of the material underneath, feeling the muscles of his sides tense against her fingers.  </p><p>“So beautiful”, he murmured against her, hands roaming down her arms, pulling her hands up to rest against the wall at either side of her head. </p><p>“Little older than all my other girls though”. He purred in her ear. </p><p>She froze.</p><p>“But, you’ll do just fine”, Dean pulled back, eyes boring into hers, not his green eyes. With irises the size of pinpricks, these eyes were almost white blue, like ice - which currently seemed to be running through her veins. </p><p>
  <em> Gregor Petricca. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>__</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Character violence/Abuse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“FU-”, the curse died on her lips as not-Dean wrapped her braid around his hand and hauled her down to her knees. She scrambled to get out of his grip, to grab hold of anything, but as well trained as she was - Dean’s size and strength could overpower her on a good day - let alone now, when he was juiced up with the psychotic spirit of a perverted serial killer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been so long since I’ve had a pretty little blonde”, He said, smirking down at her. The speech coming out all wrong, higher pitched with a slight lisp and a European twinge - much faster than Dean’s cadence, “I’m gonna have to take my time with you.. make it last”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You.. you are one sick bastard”, Jo spat through chattering teeth. She wasn’t sure if she was shivering from cold, or the fear that was starting to seep into her brain. Angry at herself for getting caught in a moment, on a job, and letting her guard down. He had her neck cranked in such an angle that she couldn’t twist to reach her father's iron hunting knife from her boot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You - this house - those p-poor girls”, She glared up at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh hush now, I gave those girls what they needed - someone to love them and keep them in line, teach them their place”, He growled at her as he dragged her across the porch, hand still wrapped with her hair, Jo struggled clumsily behind him - attempting to grab hold of anything she could. He whipped his face to hers and hissed “They had no daddies around to teach them that, someone had too”. Kicking the front door open, he threw her mercilessly into the entryway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jo cried out as she tried to roll into the fall, instead she landed awkwardly, left wrist buckling under her weight as she tried to keep him in view - not wanting her back to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kind of like you, right sweet girl?”, He smiled down at her, stepping forward.  “Your daddy is long gone isn’t he, it’s all right up here”. He tapped a finger against his temple as he crouched down to her level. “There’s a lot of guilt in here about it too, yes madam. Oh, and so much more.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached out as she tried to scramble away, fisting his hand in the front of her jacket and hauling her up as he stood. Bringing the tip of her nose almost in line with his, her boots barely touching the ground - hands clawing at his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The things he’s got swimming in here about you my dear, why - it would make you blush”. He sneered and she could feel his breath whisper across her face. “S’why it was just so easy to get in, all those lustful and greedy thoughts he’s been trying to ignore”. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you”, She glared and spat in his eyes, kicking her feet into his shins, hoping he would drop her. He just held her out at arm's length and...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hit shocked her more than anything, a backhand straight across her face. She had to blink through the stars that sprung into her vision. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Such manners, this is why you girls need a firm hand. To do a thing like that”, He scolded, wiping his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“De-Dean, this isn’t you - fight it”, She stammered. “Fight HIM”. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tsk, tsk - come now, he could never keep a thing like you in line. He needs me - oh he’s got a darkness here mind you. But he doesn’t have the stomach for this” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Setting her feet to the ground, he swung again. Connecting with another audible cuff to her cheek. She dropped to her knees, spitting blood from a split lip, tears springing to her eyes as she cradled the side of her head, heat radiating from the spot of impact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you dare cry Joanna</span>
  </em>
  <span> - she screamed in her head. It was his face that had her struggling to think straight. Dean’s face. Dean, who would do anything to keep her safe. Dean, who would never lay a hand on her.. Or any woman, like this. It was clouding her instincts, she shook her head to clear the thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was a job, he was now the job. Save him, kill the bad thing and burn the fucking house down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snatched her knife from her boot, swinging it towards the meaty spot between his collarbone and shoulder - but he blocked it. Catching her wrist, smiling at her with those fucking eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know your moves my girl”, he chuckled, squeezing the pressure point on her wrist until she dropped the knife. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>WHAM</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fist connected with his jaw - this time catching him by surprise and he dropped her arm. She’d never hit Dean in the face when they trained, body shots only. She used the assumption to her advantage and snatched the opportunity to put some distance between them. She took off into the sitting room, seizing another shotgun out of the duffel beside the couch as she peeled around the corner and sprinted up the back stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, you definitely need a firm hand”, He chuckled to himself, rubbing at the scruff along his face where her punch had hit home, cracking his jaw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t hide from me in my own house my dear”, He shouted as he slowly strode down the hallway, trailing his fingers along opposite walls. Reaching the doorway to the kitchen, he brought himself to full height, stretching and flexing the muscles through his neck and shoulders. Feeling the full range of this body, much younger and stronger than his own was, it’s mortality and feebleness betraying him at the end. Oh yes, he liked this one, much better than any of the puberty fueled boys he’d previously had to settle with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cocked his head to the side as he listened to the creaks and groans of this old house of his. He had been trapped in these walls for a long time now, he knew every sound. Every nail, every knot in every floorboard, every tomb in every wall. He smiled a wicked evil look, his girls. He could name them all, knew every freckle on every one of them. Remembered the moment he broke them of all their bad habits. Remembered all the things he taught them. How to cook, clean and keep house. And when they flowered, he taught them of their other duties. He never touched them before they bled, oh no, he was no deviant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head snapped towards the living room, listening to her carefully pick her way down the stairs. She was good, quiet - that was something he wouldn’t have to teach her. But there were many things in her to break. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made his way towards where the formal dining room once sat, knowing where to place every footstep to avoid sound. Coming up from the opposite side of her, he peered around the corner - she was crouched on the bottom stair, with her back towards him - poking her shotgun around the doorway to the living room. He crept towards her, holding his breath as she stood and stepped off the stair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello again pretty girl”, he said, watching her jump as he grabbed the back of her head, smashing her forehead into the doorframe. Gun clattering to the ground, she fell backwards into his arms. “Oooh, it’s okay. I got you, you’re okay”, he whispered soothingly to her unconscious form, he brushed stray strands of hair from her face, smoothing them back into place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Such a pretty thing”. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Implied rape, death.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jo groaned as she came too, blinking against the dark. <em> The Cellar</em>, she thought as she tried to bring a hand up to her throbbing head but she realized she couldn’t. She felt her hands and feet restrained to the arms and legs of the chair she was sitting in, able to make out the faint glow of the white zip ties that were digging into her skin. </p>
<p>“Sonofabitch”, she hissed as she tried to blink through the pain in her head. She took a moment to let her eyes adjust as sparks flashed behind them and catalogue her situation. <em> Injuries - head, wrist, maybe a rib or two, definitely my pride</em>. She thought. <em> Weapons... None. </em> Her knife was gone; dropped during the scuffle in the entryway. Shotgun gone; dropped when he knocked her out by the stairs. She still had her jacket on, and could feel the outline of the salt-filled shotgun shells in the pockets, probably not even enough to form a ring around herself. <em> Fuck. </em></p>
<p><em> Okay, step one; get out of the chair - </em>she thought. She wiggled around and stood awkwardly, leaning forward to balance the weight of the chair and pulled her hands back as far as she could along the chair arms, holding onto them she planted her feet and pulled the chair up, freeing her feet as she got the chair high enough to clear the zip ties attached at her ankles. She sat back down hard into the chair, crossing one leg up over her other knee so that her fingers could reach her boots, and working the laces undone, pulling it free from each of the grommets except the last one. She maneuvered to knot the end of the shoelace in the last grommet, using her fingers and teeth to tighten it. She grabbed the other end of the lace with her teeth and dropped it into her hand so she could work it under the zip tie, using her teeth again to pull it through. She switched her crossed feet and knotted the free end to one of the loops on her boot. With one end of the shoelace attached to each foot and the middle between the zip tie and her wrist, she proceeded to balance in the seat and pump her legs up and down fast, as if she were riding a bike. Wearing through the first zip tie quickly, she made short work of the one attaching her other wrist, the second one moving faster with a free hand. </p>
<p>“Thank god for the internet”, she said as she re-laced her boot. Now standing in the middle of the room, a sharp pain shot through her skull, she tried to steady her breathing, taking note of the big lump at the side of her head and feeling the blood crusting in her hair. </p>
<p>“Step two, get out of the cellar.” </p>
<p>She exhaled a deep breath, noticing as it crystalized in the air. The temperature dropped further in the already freezing room. She looked around instinctively, pulling one of the salt rounds from her pocket and popping the cap off - it wasn’t much but she’d use what she could. </p>
<p>Standing in the far corner was the ghost of a girl, younger than Jo but maybe only by a few years. She seemed to be wearing modern clothes, jeans and a tank top, with big hoop earrings and a heart locket around her neck. </p>
<p>“I’m gonna take a stab in the dark and say that you’re Anna?” Jo asked the spectral.</p>
<p>They stared at each other for a short time, Jo didn’t feel the same ominous aura from this girl that she did from him - Dean slash Gregor. She could hear him moving around somewhere upstairs in the house.</p>
<p>“Can you help me?”, Jo whispered, sticking the salt round back in her pocket and putting her hands up in mock surrender. </p>
<p>The girl said nothing, but pointed under the stairs. Jo slowly made her way to the bottom of the stairs and peered underneath, keeping the girl in her peripheral vision. She couldn’t see anything, just blackness. She looked back at the girl over her shoulder as she sensed her movement, watching as she got to her hands and knees and crawled under the stairs, looking back at Jo and waving her hand for her to follow. </p>
<p><em> Fuuuuuuck. </em> She thought. “Please don’t lead me to my death, pretty please” She pleaded as she got on her hands and knees and followed the dingy glow of the ghost girl. She was led down a dirt tunnel, she could feel the coldness of the earth seeping through her hands and knees, the eerie pressure of silence surrounding her as she followed. After what seemed like forever, she vaguely felt the path shift upwards as what appeared to be a small dirt cave opened up in front of her, with her eyes having adjusted to the dark, Jo could see a body in the cave. </p>
<p>“Shit”, Jo panted as she leaned against the wall farthest from the body. Anna. She’d obviously been through hell, milky eyes stared up at her, bruises against her arms and throat visible even in the dark. Her torn tank top barely covering her chest, and her jeans pulled down to her ankles. Jo leaned over and closed Anna’s eyes, trying hard to ignore the blood that was splattered across the girl's thighs. </p>
<p>As she leaned back to sit on her haunches, she took another look around the cave before she noticed small inconsistencies in the ground. She brushed the dirt off one by her knee... Uncovering something soft, she picked it up and squinted at it. A small not-so-white stuffed bear. Putting it down, she patted around the floor again, uncovering a doll this time, face cracked with age. She found more; a brush, a tiny porcelain teacup, and more stuffed animals, their fur dirty and matted. </p>
<p>Jo looked at the ghost of Anna, who was sitting with her knees tucked to her chest in a corner close to her body. “Is this all… from the girls in the walls?”</p>
<p>Anna just looked at her, pointed one finger towards the roof before flickering and disappearing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>__</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just in case the text wasn't clear, or anyone doubts the method that Jo got free from the zip ties; here's the video that directly inspired that scene (and something I've now embedded in my brain if I'm ever held captive).</p>
<p>https://www.facebook.com/247780222780071/videos/231016404693826/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jo sat there for a moment, letting the outline of Anna’s ghost fade from her eyes before crawling over and looking up to where she had pointed. Roots dangled from above her and she reached her hands up to feel the earth. Colder than it was in the cellar, she prodded at it - searching for a spot soft enough to dig her hands into. She found a patch crumble around one of the roots in the far corner from Anna’s body and sucking in a big breath of air, she yanked the root down as hard as she could. Jo scrambled into the falling dirt when the corner of the roof started to collapse, trying to gain traction and climb. She got her hands free first, feeling the bite of snow against her skin, she searched blindly for anything to grab onto - finally grasping a small sapling and trying to heave herself out of the hole. She got her head above the dirt, gasping for air as her grip on the tree failed. Frozen wet hands slipping along the slick bark. She stayed like that for a moment, head and hands coming out of the frozen earth, dragging in gulps of fresh, cold air, blinking up at the clear sky. </p><p>She struggled to free herself from the dirt, her left wrist starting to ache as the muscles strained, protesting at the abuse it had taken since its initial injury. Jo pulled herself up, trying her best to dust herself off before shedding her jacket and flannel. She quickly put her jacket back on over her tank top and tied her flannel to the little sapling as a marker. She could make an anonymous tip to the police after she finished this.</p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Jo hiked her way back to where she hoped the impala was parked, feeling much colder with the loss of her flannel layer now that it was dark out. She sent out a silent thank you to whoever was watching over her out here when she caught sight of the shiny black car through the brush. Hurrying over, she pulled the door open as quietly as she could - not trusting how far sound could carry out here and yanked the latch that popped the trunk open. They’d taken most of the arsenal in with them sans a few things that wouldn’t help her much now, all she wanted was the bulk box of salt she knew was tucked near the back, along with the little tin of lighter fluid. </p><p>Supplies in hand, she tucked the big box of salt under her arm and started her trek back up to the house, staying off the path they had taken the first time and kept hidden in the brush. When she got to the house, she went to work. Creeping her way around the house as quietly as she could, she lined the doors and windows, and did a secondary line of salt around the perimeter of the house, taking special care to keep her steps silent against the wood of the mezzanine. She made her way to the back door, doing her best to dry the bottom of her boots with the arms of her jacket, and wedged herself through the crack of the open door. Pausing for a bit to listen for where Dean could be in the house, she heard him muttering to himself from the sitting room so she carefully continued into the kitchen and up the back stairwell, hardly daring to breathe as she picked her way up the steps. </p><p>She froze at the top when she heard Dean make his way around to the kitchen and yank open the door to the cellar. <em> FUCK </em>she thought, she didn’t have much time before he realized she wasn’t there. She popped open the cap to the lighter fluid and started pouring a trail behind her as she stepped up to the demolished piece of wall closest to her, throwing salt onto the skeleton within it. Hoping that with a level between her and Dean, her steps would be muffled, until she heard a loud curse and what sounded like a chair being smashed against the cellar wall. She sped up and sprinted down the rest of the hall, half haphazardly throwing salt through all damage they’d made to the walls. She hit the top of the front stairwell as she heard Dean stomp his way up from the cellar. </p><p>“I can hear you, you little cunt.” She heard him bellow. “I don’t know what you think you can do but I will catch you!”</p><p>Dropping the salt box, she thumped her way down the stairs, still pouring the lighter fluid behind her and dumped the last of it at the base of the stairs, pulled a matchbook from the back pocket of her jeans, tearing the stack of matches from within the pack and waited. </p><p>Dean rounded the corner, Gregor’s ice blue eyes settling on her. “I thought you’d be smarter than this Joanna.” He leered at her, “why would you come back for this fool?”</p><p>Ignoring his taunt, she simply smiled wickedly at him and hoped to all hell that the salt lines would hold. Hoped that Dean’s survival instinct would out-power Gregor’s possession, just long enough to get out. Jo struck the matches and they flared to life as she saw realization dawn in Gregor’s eyes. She tossed the matches onto the stairs and made to run but he was on her before she could get more than 2 steps away, his hand snapping out to grab her arm, holding her in place, fingers digging hard into her bicep as his eyes followed the flames that met the lighter fluid and fire raced up the stairs, staring in horror before a growl worked its way up his throat. </p><p>He yanked her arm hard, ceasing her struggles to get out of his grip as he brought his face inches from hers. “If I’m going down, you’re coming with me bitch,” He snarled at her, the crackle of the flames now chewing up the brittle old wood of the walls upstairs, black smoke started to trickle down the stairwell and along the ceiling above them. </p><p> </p><p>__</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: More character violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The fuck I am!” Jo shouted back, turning sharp and swinging her fist to smash a punch against Dean’s jaw, using the faint blue outline of the bruise on the side she’d left behind earlier as a target.</p><p>He reeled from the hit, dropping her arm and Jo swept her foot behind his ankles, dropping him hard on his hip. Even with the element of surprise, he was still lightning fast, grabbing her leg from underneath her as she turned to run. Jo tumbled to the ground, barely getting her hands in front of her face in time to protect herself from a broken nose. She tried to scramble away from him towards the front door on all fours, nails digging into the hardwood for any traction. He held her ankle firm, yanking her back towards him, forcing her hands out from underneath her, there was an audible clack of her teeth connecting as her chin hit the floor. </p><p>He flipped her over roughly and crawled to hover over her, grabbing one arm and holding it straight out against the floor, pressing her wrist into the floor. His other hand closed around her throat. He brought his head down to her ear, “Wouldn’t this just be the perfect ending for the two of you?” He cackled, “Almost poetic really, the tragic death of star crossed, almost lovers.”</p><p>She was gasping for breath now as he pushed harder against her windpipe, she could feel the heat of the flames against the soles of her boots as she struggled underneath him. The smoke had started to fill the room, billowing down the stairwell towards them. Her eyes were watering as darkness started to spot her vision, the hand that wasn’t pinned was wrapped around one of the salt rounds in her pocket, popping the cap off.  </p><p>Jo took one big gulp of air as she channelled the last of her fleeting strength she threw salt in his face, he let her go as his hands came up to cradle his face as he screamed she bucked her hips up hard, forcing him to drop his hands to stop his face from hitting the floor above her head, she circled one of his arms with both of hers, pulling her clasped hands into the crook of his elbow, forcing him to smash it on the ground beside her shoulder. She wrapped one foot around his ankle, the same side she’d forced his elbow to drop, which threw his momentum to lean to that side. She bucked her hips again, causing him to lose his balance and drop to his side, as she flipped them over.</p><p>He was still trying to claw the salt off his face as he continued to scream, giving her another opening. Flipping the cap off another salt round, she poured the contents into her palm as she battled to pull one of his hands away from his face and then slammed her hand over his mouth, forcing the salt down his throat as he tried to fight her off. </p><p>His eyes bugged wide as the salt hit home, he writhed trying to throw Jo off him as he winced in pain. She held strong, one hand still clamped over his mouth, the other hand pushing her weight against his shoulder when his eyes rolled back in their sockets, showing her nothing but the whites. </p><p>The flames were spreading to the other rooms now as it chewed it’s way down the walls from the floor above. The roar and crack of fire pressed down on them, sweat pouring off Jo, her eyes were streaming and squinted against the smoke. She felt Dean’s body arch and convulse under her, time seemed to crawl before ice blue gave way to Dean’s green eyes squinting up at the ceiling. He struggled to turn over, his body heaving hard as he gagged and retched. Jo was still half straddling his back while thick black ectoplasm splattered on the floor when Dean gagged hard again, as if Gregor Petricca was refusing to let go of his insides. </p><p>Jo jumped up with her hands on Dean’s shoulders, trying to drag him up as the flames licked at her. “Dean we gotta go”, she choked, trying to pull him along. </p><p>He heaved one more time, forcing out more of the black fluid, spitting the taste from his mouth as he struggled to breathe through the smoke. He stayed on all fours panting, sweating and struggling to get to his feet. “Jo..” He looked at her, eyes wide. </p><p>“I know.” She wheezed, grabbing his collar and hauling him to his feet. She shouldered her way under his side to support him, stamping out a flame that got too close to her foot. She half-carried him as they stumbled to the entry, nudging him to step over the salt line and onto the porch as a hiss and squeal escaped the pool of ectoplasm, the blaze from the stairwell creeping across the floor to consume it. They watched it sizzle and bubble before it burnt to ash under the flames, as the porch cover above them gave a loud groan and started to collapse. </p><p>Jo pulled Dean towards the steps and in her haste, missed avoiding the rotten board she’d put her foot through before, losing her balance as her boot caught the edge of the gap and they tumbled down the steps. Both crawling a few feet to get some distance between their feet and the fire, they collapsed shoulder to shoulder onto the snow, both breathing hard between coughing fits, the flames reflecting in their watering eyes.</p><p> </p><p>__</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, if the text didn't describe struggle where Jo flipped Dean over, here's the video that directly inspired that. </p><p>https://vm.tiktok.com/TMfGsm/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They laid in the snow like that for a long time, on their backs just watching the house burn for a long time. Until the fire had almost completely consumed the porch and they could hear the first faint sounds of sirens in the distance. Dean sat up first, turning to get up with a wheezing grunt, he put his hand out towards Jo to help her up. She stared at his hand for a long breath, before putting her hand out to let him pull her up, she’d likely have slept there if he’d let her. She smirked at the outlines of the two sooty snow angels they’d be leaving behind.</p><p>Wanting to avoid being at the scene of an arson as the sirens inched closer, they trudged through the brush back to the impala quickly, following the path Jo had made on the walk back.  The sky was now empty of the heavy snowflakes, having given way to a crisp, clear, star-studded sky. They were just as quiet now as when they’d first walked to the house, but the air was heavy with a different type of tension. Dean would toss her a look every few steps, she could tell he wanted to say something, she saw him attempt a few times in her perifs but he’d just end up scrubbing his hand over his face or through his hair. </p><p>They made it to the car as the first fire truck hit the bottom of the path up to the house, and they ducked down behind the hood, watching the rest of the emergency vehicles race towards the flames. </p><p>“So, I guess we learned somethin’ huh?” Jo said quietly, her eyes focused on the flashing lights as they leaned against the front of the car. </p><p>“Jo... I-”, Dean started. </p><p>“Those anti-possession tattoos don’t cover sociopathic spirits - guess we’re all getting new ink.” She turned to smile at him, a genuine, albeit exhausted smile. </p><p>Before she could turn her face back away from him he reached out and took her chin, tilting her face towards the shoulder she had touching his, so he could see the other side. Under the soot that smudged her cheeks, was the distinct outline of a hand, the raised edge that ran along her cheekbone was already starting to bruise an angry purple. </p><p>She’d have a black eye by morning. </p><p>All he could do was just stare at the bruise, shame flashing across his face. “Jo, I am so-”, he tried again. </p><p>She waved him off, swatting his hand away, “that wasn’t you, it just wore your face.”</p><p>“I know, but..”</p><p>“We should get going before the sun comes up.” She said as she climbed to her feet. “I need a hot shower and sleep before we relay all that shit to Sam.”</p><p>He nodded, stood up and quietly made his way to the driver's side door. He dropped down into the seat, but before he closed the door, he snatched a handful of snow, packing it into a ball and handed it to Jo. </p><p>They rode in silence the whole way to the motel, Jo’s hand tucked into the sleeve of her jacket to hold the snowball as she gently kept it pressed against her cheek. </p><p>Sam whipped the motel room door open the minute he heard the rumble of the impala hit the parking lot, meeting them at the parking stall in a few long strides. </p><p>“Dean! What the hell, are you - what happened?!” Sam’s eyes went wide as Jo stepped out of the car taking in her appearance; she was covered head to toe in dirt and soot, among the various cuts and scrapes there was dried blood matted into her hair, one side of her face bruised, and she was cradling her wrist. Sam gaped at her, mouth flapping to catch up with the questions his brain was firing.</p><p>Jo looked over the roof of the car at Dean, her eyes pleading with him. He gave her a small nod and she shuffled her way to the motel room, giving Sam a tired pat on the shoulder as she passed him. </p><p>“De--”</p><p>“Tomorrow, yea?” Dean asked tiredly. “We’re fine, just... tomorrow.”</p><p>“Ya.. okay”, Sam nodded, following Dean into the motel room. </p><p>Jo was already in the shower when they walked in, Dean dropped heavily into one of the chairs at the dinette table, kicking off his boots and scrubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. Sam swung a container of egg nog in his direction, Dean shook his head and pointed at the bottle of rum on the counter. Sam put the bottle on the table in front of him with a glass and watched as Dean poured a stiff portion into the glass, then proceeded to pull straight from the bottle, his eyes flicking to the bathroom door as Jo exited in her sweats and an oversized zeppelin tee. </p><p>She padded over to them and Dean held out the glass to her, she took it - knocking it back in one go before putting it upside down on the table. Popping up on her tiptoes, Sam still had to lean down so Jo could give him a peck on the cheek. “Merry Christmas Sam”. She turned back to Dean, bending down to do the same to him. “Merry Christmas,” she said quietly against his cheek before standing up, padding to the bed. Plopping down and curling into a ball, pulling all the covers to wrap around her, her tired voice called out from her burrito, “By the way, I'm not getting up before noon.”</p><p>She was asleep instantly.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>True to her word, Jo slept hard until well after noon, curled in the same ball she’d started in. The only reason she so much as peeked an eye open was to the smell of bacon, and Sam pleading with her to call Ellen before she flew down and skinned Dean alive. She reached her hand out to snag a strip of bacon off the plate Sam was holding over her and then reached her hand back out for the phone. </p><p>By the end of her portion of the phone call, she’d unravelled herself from her cocoon and was sitting cross-legged on the bed, having talked to both her mother and Ash, assuring them she was fine and the job went well. Ellen spoke to both Sam and Dean, wishing them their Merry Christmases, Sam popping out to grab Jo a coffee as Dean snapped the phone closed. </p><p>He grabbed the newspaper from the table and his plate of breakfast, walking over to drop the paper in her lap she read the headline as she snagged another strip of bacon off his plate.</p><p><strong><em>NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS: ANONYMOUS TIP UNCOVERS BODY OF MISSING LOCAL GIRL AT PETRICCA HOUSE FIRE.</em></strong> The headline screamed at her. </p><p>“Your doing?”, Dean asked as he sat on the bed across from her, she nodded as he watched her read the rest of the article. The bruise across her cheek had darkened overnight, spreading to creep under one side of her eye. “Jo-.”</p><p>She stopped reading and looked up at him,  “Please don’t apologize.” She said holding his gaze. </p><p>“I just..”, He shook his head in frustration. “It’s all blank, I- don’t know what he did to you.”</p><p>There was a long pause as she watched him eye the floor,  “When did it stop being you?” She asked. </p><p>“Outside on the deck.”</p><p>“And the kiss? Was that you or him?”</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I got the inspiration for this fic from Walk the Moon’s song Anna Sun. If you know the lyrics, you can probably find where I pulled lines and pieces from, including some of the character names: obviously the missing girls name Anna from the song itself, her boyfriend's name David and the Spirit’s last name Petricca both came from a couple of the songwriters (Adam David Reifsnyder and Nicholas William Petricca.)</p><p>There are a few other easter eggs from the show tucked in there as well. Hope ya’ll enjoyed it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>